


No Sign of Life

by nectarimperial



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nectarimperial/pseuds/nectarimperial
Summary: Tell me how hard will I fall if I live a double life?
“And that,” Wataru replies, bending over Eichi’s frame, “That’s why you challenged the Five of Us? The five most formidable people at the school?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [battour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/battour/gifts).



> for my fave weevs

“Just a little more, please?” Eichi asks, sugar dripping on each and every word, like the morphine that crawls through the IV into his forearm, medical tape keeping the needle in place. “The pain is awfully bad today,” he continues. 

The nurse looks at him and purses her lips, but increases the dose without saying a word, turning on her heel and exiting out of the hospital room, closing the door behind her. 

Eichi hadn’t been lying, the pain **_is_** especially bad today, but he isn’t really sure if it’s because of his illness or the resistance to opiates he’d built up over the years. Sometimes, the antiquated pain medicine gave him more pleasure than he’d ever experienced in his lackluster life, bound by hospital walls and sterile environments full of carefully measured meals and the overpowering smell of rubbing alcohol and bleach.

Looking over at the IV, he sighs and rolls his eyes, sitting up in the bed a little just to reach over and increase the drip on the morphine. He knew how to adjust the mechanisms, but last time he upped the dosage without consent it caused mass hysteria so this time at least there was a nurse that ordered the prescription in the place.

Resting his hands on his stomach, Eichi turns on the television in the hospital room and waits for the opiates to kick in, a feeling of euphoria running through every muscle in his body, nerves and synapses firing at an alarming speed just to lessen the constant debilitating pain that afflicted his day to day actions.

There’s always a couple hours where he feels like he could accomplish anything, and he loves it more than anything. Tsumugi always chastised him for pill popping before going on stage with Fine, but he never listened and rolled his eyes--it’s not like Tsumugi knew what it’s like to spend every waking minute in constant pain. In those moments, Eichi felt like he could really be an idol, like he could make it to the top and he wasn’t about to trade that illusion for a false reality where he needed to accept his own mortality.

After all, being an idol is the only thing he ever really wanted.

The news channel he’s watching switches to an image of Yumenosaki Academy and Eichi turns up the volume to listen to what they had to say about his beloved school.

 _In a rare open performance, idol unit Fine is expected to challenge the final member of the Five_ and Eichi stops watching, changing the channel and rolling his head back against his pillows, thinking of their upcoming match and wondering if his body can handle it, until sleep overtakes him and his eyelashes flutter shut against his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

Eichi isn’t sure what time it is when he hears something in his room and sits up in a fright, his stomach churning with the excess of morphine pumping through his veins. There’s nothing to his left, nothing to his right, and the only thing in front of him is the static on the television even though he swore he fell asleep to the news.

Grabbing the remote, Eichi tries changing channels but nothing seems to work, each station showing the same garbled static as the news, and eventually after awhile he just shuts it off, sitting up and hanging his head in his hands.

“Maybe it’s a network issue,” he thinks and grabs his control panel attached to his bed, trying to call the nurses’s station to inform them of the trouble, but notices the buttons aren’t lit, and no matter how many times he slams the call button with his thumb, there’s no voice coming over the speaker.

Sighing, he leans against the pillows and wonders if it’s an electrical issue, even though the heart monitor connected to his index finger beeps gently with the rhythm of the beating in his chest and the other machines around his hospital bed seem to function normally.

“Doctor,” he tries calling weakly, but his voice catches in his throat, and at that moment it feels as if his vocal box has something lodged in it, so Eichi coughs instead, propping himself against the pillows.

“Oh, they can’t hear you,” a masculine voice says, mock sweetness gracing each word. “And even if they could, nothing they can do now. I mean, the wire to the call box is cut.” Eichi sees a disembodied black-gloved hand dangle the cord in the stream of moonlight coming in through the curtains and though he squints, there’s no body attached.

Eichi clears his throat, “A bit cowardly, don’t you think? Any man that would corner the sick and yet still refuse to show their face isn’t someone I’d consider formidable.”

The man chuckles and emerges from the shadows, long blue-silver hair, part of his braid framing his face while the other is intricately tied into the ponytail dangling on his head, “You make a fair point, Emperor” he replies and drops the callbox on the ground, bowing gracefully, “I’m your very own Hibiki Wataru, humbling requesting an audience with Your Imperial Majesty.”

Eichi isn’t sure how to reply so he just stares at Wataru, his mouth open, his chest heaving and the only thing he can think of to say is “Yes, fine, if that’s what you want,” It makes Wataru smile, and he rounds the side of t he bed, gloved hand tracing Eichi’s frame as he wraps his fingers around Eichi’s throat, squeezing with as little force as possible.

“You’re hardly ready to take me on, are you?” Wataru asks, finally straddling Eichi’s figure, resting his weight on Eichi’s thighs, “You’re just a little sick boy, trapped in your hospital bed,” he continues and wraps his hand tighter and tighter around Eichi’s windpipe until Eichi can barely breathe.

“Oh this is low,” Eichi coughs and it makes Wataru smile, “Fine, choke the life out of me right now, secure your position as Yumenosaki’s most formidable idol, just do it. No one will question you, that Tenshouin boy was always weak, his heart must’ve just given out.”

“No, no,” Wataru replies, “Never, never would I do such a thing. I promise I’ll fight you fair and square. I’m here for your dreams and nothing more, don’t confuse my intent.”

“Is that so?” Eichi asks, trying to move his wrists, but they seem bound to the bed, stretched over his head. In fact, he isn’t even sure how he managed to get into this position in the first place, his knees spread underneath his hospital gown, giving Wataru access to all of him.

It’s humiliating, but in a way he likes.

Pulling up the bottom of Eichi’s gown, Wataru smiles, “It’s true, I promise,” and in one swift motion his glove is off and his slicked fingers are pressing against Eichi’s entrance, stretching and feeling him in a way Eichi had always dreamt about but never thought he would experience. “Now tell me, what do you want more than anything?”

It’s hard for Eichi to resist. It’s hard for Eichi to resist because it’s Wataru, and Wataru of all people is pressing himself inside of him and finger fucking him until Eichi manages to reply, “You, I want-- I want you.”

“I see,” Wataru purrs against Eichi’s ear and grabs his legs, forcing them apart. The heart monitor on Eichi’s right is beeping and beeping, spikes increasing with each breath Wataru takes against Eichi’s ear. “Is that why you’re determined to win against me so bad?”

“Yes,” Eichi says, no longer comprehending his words, agreeing to anything that came out of Wataru’s mouth, his fingers still pressing deep inside of him, a pleasure that he never knew of.

Wataru laughs and unzips his pants, positioning himself at Eichi’s entrance, one hand still stretching Eichi open, the other running across his cock, slicking it with desire and the urge to feed, “That’s a lie,” he says at last, thrusting his cock into Eichi, pressing one gloved hand and one bare hand against Eichi’s thighs, throwing them over his shoulders.

“No, I,” Eichi starts to say and loses the thought almost immediately, feeling the way Wataru thrusts inside of him, each motion more delibrate than the last. He may have been a foolish clown, but his actions demonstrate nothing but the absolute best. Wataru said he was here for Eichi’s dreams and Eichi believes him, finally relaxing against the pillows, “I want to become an idol.” 

“And that,” Wataru replies, bending over Eichi’s frame to get deeper inside of him, “That’s why you challenged the Five of Us? The five most formidable people at the school? Emperor please,” Wataru says, throwing his arms on either side of Eichi’s head, leaning his face close to the other boy’s, “That’s a lie, too. You may be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to me.”

“No it’s, it’s true,” Eichi responds and finally gets enough nerve in his body to reach his arms up and grab Wataru by the shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. It isn’t really every day that the boy you’ve been in love with for years fucks you in your hospital bed and tells you that you’re a filthy liar, so Eichi figures he might as well make the most of it. 

“Emperor,” Wataru starts, collapsing against Eichi’s chest, leaning close to his ear as he continued to thrust into Eichi like it’s the only thing he knew how to do, “Eichi, you’re already an idol.” He finishes his statement with a gentle whisper.

Eichi can’t handle waiting any longer and cums between them, his cock pressed against his own stomach exposed underneath his hospital gown and Wataru’s chest, clad in the outfit he was to challenge Fine in. “Not until I defeat you,” he replies, and Wataru chuckles, biting Eichi’s exposed neck as he releases inside of him, his fingers leaving bruises along Eichi’s thighs.

“I await your performance, Emperor.”

It’s the last thing Eichi remembers before he falls asleep against his pillows.

 

 

 

 

When Eichi wakes up, the morning light is streaming in through the windows. His head hurts, his entire body hurts, and his thighs especially feel as if they’d been well stretched past their limits.

Instinctively he reaches for the IV attached to his arm but can’t seem to locate it and instead slaps the Band-Aid where it used to be. Frustrated, he calls the nurse on his call button and to his surprise, someone arrives immediately, despite the fact that he thought it had been disconnected.

“The morphine, I--It hurts,” Eichi says, gesturing to the empty space, “I swear it was just here.” 

“It seems you had a bad reaction to it last night,” she replies, and places a towel against Eichi’s head. “I hear you had especially bad nightmares. We couldn’t seem to wake you up?”

“I--what?” Eichi asks, but the nurse disappears before he can probe further. Instinctively he reaches for the marks on his thighs bruising by the second and wonders if it had just been a bad dream.

Clicking on the television, he sees Wataru in an interview with a news station and scoffs. 

“Tenshouin is a true idol. It’ll be an honor to challenge him,” Wataru says, his eyes staring directly into the camera. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


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